


hello from the other side

by inkin_brushes



Series: Immortals (Vamp AU) [52]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkin_brushes/pseuds/inkin_brushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I feel like I’m going to faint,” Sanghyuk said softly, still staring at the mouth of the alleyway like it was a compulsion. Sungjae had died there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a long time, since Sanghyuk had driven a car while vampires sat beside him as passengers. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. He knew he was safe here, and his friends gave him comfort, but they were still vampires, and his body was too on edge to disregard that fact.   
  
Jaehwan’s hand was on his thigh, thumb running over the outer seam of Sanghyuk’s jeans, while in the backseat Wonshik and Hongbin were speaking in low voices.   
  
“Turn right here,” Jaehwan murmured, and Sanghyuk obeyed. He didn’t know how to get to— where they were going. But Jaehwan had been before. “It’s there.”  
  
Sanghyuk eased off the gas. “Where?”  
  
“The alleyway next to the pharmacy,” Jaehwan said, nodding at the darkened store.   
  
Hongbin was there suddenly, his hand on Jaehwan’s shoulder. “Hakyeon and Taekwoon are already here,” he said.  
  
Jaehwan grunted, and Sanghyuk parked in front of the pharmacy. There was a meter. Sanghyuk did not fucking care.   
  
Wonshik and Hongbin got out of the car wordlessly, and Sanghyuk took a moment to breathe deeply. The alleyway loomed darkly ahead, but Sanghyuk thought he could see the flicker of a candle’s light.   
  
He turned the car off, and Jaehwan took the keys from his trembling fingers, tucking them away in his own pocket. “Sanghyuk,” he whispered.   
  
“I feel like I’m going to faint,” Sanghyuk said softly, still staring at the mouth of the alleyway like it was a compulsion. Sungjae had died there.  
  
“You don’t have to do this,” Jaehwan said, touching the Sanghyuk’s jaw and turning his face so he had to meet Jaehwan’s eyes. He had such pretty eyes, and in them was a well of concern and hurt. Sanghyuk was beginning to find such comfort in it.   
  
“But I do,” Sanghyuk whispered, and then he pulled away and got out of the car. The outside air was frigid, and it felt like it was clawing at his skin. He’d worn a turtleneck under his coat, mostly to hide the fresh bite marks, but he was grateful that he’d done so, simply for the warmth.   
  
Jaehwan was by his side in a flicker, linking their arms, and together they walked to the alley.  
  
Sanghyuk didn’t know what he’d expected, in truth. He knew Sungjae’s body had been taken from the scene, that there had been blood but not much. Were it not for Kyungsoo and his— paraphernalia, there wouldn’t have been anything abnormal seeming about the place. Nothing to mark the life that had been lost here.   
  
There _were_ candles, four of them, bunched together at the center of an intricately drawn pentagram— no, not a pentagram. This star had six points. The drawing was white chalk, at least five feet across, the circles around the outer edge were made of tiny script, in a language Sanghyuk did not know. At three alternating points of the star rested metal bowls, each with something different inside. Sanghyuk recognized the bloody handkerchief in one, some kind of herb mixture in another, and a thick, black tar-like substance in the third. Sanghyuk didn’t want to know.  
  
Kyungsoo was on his knees, still writing in the last of the circle. Hakyeon and Taekwoon were at the back of the alleyway, seemingly trying to be unobtrusive, and Wonshik and Hongbin had gone back to huddle beside them.  
  
“Watch your head,” Kyungsoo muttered, and Sanghyuk looked up. At four points, two at the back of the alleyway, two at the front, strips of linen were hung. They looked— like they’d been white, but had been dipped in blood. It had dried, rusty brown, and between the knotted strips a thin line of string had been strung, one to the other, so they created a rectangular perimeter.   
  
Sanghyuk tilted his head so he could pass under the string without disturbing it. There was a— a sort of fizzy sensation as he did so, and his oak tree tattoo was positively humming. “What are they?” Sanghyuk asked, staring at a bloody strip of linen as the breeze plucked at its end.   
  
“This spell is difficult, and its nature requires it to have actual, physical boundaries,” Kyungsoo said, standing with a groan. He patted his hands over his jeans, wiping away the chalk residue on his fingertips. “We’re nearly ready. And with a good half hour to spare too.”  
  
“What time are you going to start it?” Hakyeon asked.  
  
Kyungsoo looked up, like he was gauging time by the stars. “Ilhoon said he thought the attack happened around one, so to be safe, I’d like to start the spell at a quarter to. I should be able to keep it running for a half an hour. Hopefully that will be a wide enough window.”  
  
“Where is— Ilhoon?” Taekwoon murmured, looking at Sanghyuk. It was so strange to Sanghyuk, how Jaehwan could, at times, pass himself off as something nearly human, while Taekwoon— it was hard to imagine Taekwoon had ever been human. He was just too off.  
  
“He should be here soon,” Sanghyuk said.  
  
Kyungsoo gave a one shouldered shrug. “I wanted to use you, anyway. Come here,” he said, beckoning Sanghyuk forward.   
  
Jaehwan’s hold on him tightened momentarily before he let go, and Sanghyuk went to stand beside Kyungsoo, very careful not to accidentally smudge the chalk circle as he did. “What do I have to do?”  
  
“Stand still and bleed,” Kyungsoo said simply, and he turned to look at the vampires. “I need one of you too. Not Jaehwan nor Taekwoon.”   
  
Jaehwan, who had been taking a step forward, stopped. “Why not?”  
  
“This vampire is not an Elimia, it is under a hundred years old,” Kyungsoo explained, waving his hand dismissively at Jaehwan’s scowl. “It would be better if we knew its exact age, and used a vampire of the same age— but lacking that, I will need one of the younger ones, simply because they are, at the least, closer in age than you are. Hongbin is four years old, correct? He would be best.”  
  
Hongbin seemed perfectly neutral about this, but Wonshik was making little spluttery noises. “Wait, wait, what is he going to have to do?” Wonshik asked, and Hongbin slid him a look as he came to stand on Kyungsoo’s other side.  
  
“Stand still and bleed,” Kyungsoo repeatedly blandly, and Wonshik made more noises like a misfiring tea kettle.   
  
“It’s fine, Jesus,” Hongbin said, then he cocked his head to the side, as if listening. “I think Ilhoon is here. There is a heartbeat, at any rate.”  
  
“I’ve got a repulsion spell on the site, so you lot should be the only ones able to approach for the time,” Kyungsoo said. “We shouldn’t have any unwanted visitors.”  
  
They all turned to look at the mouth of the alleyway, waiting. Sanghyuk expected Ilhoon to walk in, bold as brass, but instead when he arrived, he peeked around the corner of the building, and then pulled back with a small noise.   
  
“You are safe here, Ilhoon,” Kyungsoo called. No response. “I have a draught that will numb you some, if the number of vampires is too much for you.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Ilhoon called back, and it was weak but still snappy.   
  
“Ilhoon,” Sanghyuk said, and then Ilhoon was peeking around the corner again. It took a few beats, but then the rest of him followed. He didn’t have to duck under the string, but he definitely felt when he passed the barrier, because he stiffened even more.   
  
He walked to Sanghyuk’s side. “This is terrible,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, as if that would keep the vampires from hearing. His eyes were wide as he stared at the group of vampires at the back of the alleyway, gaze darting to Hongbin a few times, so close.   
  
Sanghyuk took his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze.   
  
Ilhoon’s voice was louder, when he spoke again. “Good to see you, Hakyeon. Wonshik.” His gaze finally settled on Hongbin, looming near him. “And— Hongbin.”  
  
Hongbin inclined his head. “I’m sure the stories precede me,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ilhoon. I really am.”  
  
Ilhoon crossed his arms over his chest, curling into himself tightly. “I don’t recognize that one,” he muttered, looking at Taekwoon in his fleece olive green sweater.   
  
“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said, gesturing for emphasis. “My older brother. Uncle to my own two bouncing boys. Hakyeon’s maker and loving husband.”  
  
Taekwoon didn’t move, just his eyes; they slid to slit a dangerous look in Jaehwan’s direction. “Jaehwan.”  
  
“You cannot disembowel me in front of this one, Taekwoon, he will probably faint,” Jaehwan said, and now it was Sanghyuk’s turn to glare at Jaehwan. When Jaehwan saw, he pouted a little but subsided, stepping back into place.   
  
“Actually, if it’s you, chances are I’ll be amused,” Ilhoon said. He did sound a bit faint, though, for all his bravado. “I could do with some amusement, right about now.”  
  
Kyungsoo had been watching them all with mild interest, but now he glanced up again, at the stars, and said, “I think we should make the final preparations.” He gestured at a corner, near the mouth of the alleyway. “It would be best if Ilhoon stood there, and the vampires— stay at the back, but fan out a bit, so you’re all pressed to the wall. The more open space the better.” He gestured to a point on the star, opposite the herbs. “Sanghyuk, you stand here, and Hongbin—” He pointed to the point opposite the mysterious black substance. “Here.”  
  
Sanghyuk stepped where he’d been told, as did the others. Kyungsoo himself would presumably stand on the point opposite the bloody handkerchief, but for now he stepped up to Hongbin, pulling a small jar out of his pocket. To Sanghyuk’s eyes it looked like a baby food jar, the substance inside a deep red jam. He knew that was far too optimistic.   
  
Kyungsoo unscrewed the cap, and Hongbin reared away, making a face. “That’s—”  
  
“It’s made from Jaehwan’s blood,” Kyungsoo said, dipping his finger in it.   
  
“It smells putrid,” Hongbin said, face twisting even more as Kyungsoo put a dot of it on Hongbin’s forehead. Jaehwan made an offended noise.   
  
“It’s very dead blood,” Kyungsoo said. He grabbed Hongbin’s wrists, one at a time, and put a drop on one palm each. “It will keep the wounds I make from healing immediately.”  
  
He moved away from Hongbin, coming to stand in front of Sanghyuk. He made the same motions with Sanghyuk, a dab on his forehead, and one on each palm. Then he pulled out a box cutter.   
  
Both Jaehwan and Wonshik made little aborted motions. Kyungsoo paused, like he was waiting for any objections, and when none came, he pricked Sanghyuk’s forehead with the box cutter, right where he’d put the dab of blood. Then he poked the blade into Sanghyuk’s palms, again where he’d put the blood. He returned to Hongbin and did the same to him.  
  
Sanghyuk could feel a bead of blood gathering from the cut on his forehead, see it welling in his palms. It seemed an unusual amount, for how small the cuts were. As he watched, a thin line of blood dripped down Hongbin’s forehead, travelling down the side of his nose, over his lips.  
  
“You don’t have to hold your palms out, you can drop them,” Kyungsoo said, and so Sanghyuk did so. “What you do have to do is make sure you stay put on the star, no matter what you see, even if the— the projections come near you. They are not physical, they will pass right through you, you won’t be able to feel them.”  
  
“What happens if we move?” Hongbin asked, barely moving his lips because he presumably didn’t want to get any of the strange blood mixture in his mouth.  
  
“The spell will end itself,” Kyungsoo said. “And I’ll be fucking pissed.” Hongbin pursed his lips, and Sanghyuk flicked his fingers, feeling blood splatter off his fingertips. “What time is it?”  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, Sanghyuk saw Ilhoon check his phone. “A quarter to one.”  
  
“I’m going to start, then,” Kyungsoo said. Instead of standing at the final point of the star, he sat down, cross-legged. He closed his eyes, and there was silence, as they all watched him. It was a silence that stretched on, and at first Sanghyuk wondered what Kyungsoo was waiting for, but he realized the fuzzy, thick feeling on his skin was increasing, his oak tree tattoo felt so restless Sanghyuk almost thought it must be moving under his skin.  
  
One of the candles went out, and Sanghyuk looked at it, worried, but then the herbs across from him were smoking, faintly, and soon they were properly aflame.   
  
A second candle went out, and the black liquid across from Hongbin went up in flames. It smelled thickly sweet, but also rotten, as it burned.  
  
When the third candle went out Sanghyuk automatically looked to the bowl with the bloody handkerchief, and sure enough it too set itself ablaze. All three bowls, while they were definitely burning, Sanghyuk could feel the heat, their contents seemingly remained moderately intact. This was, perhaps, what Kyungsoo had meant by being able to keep the spell going. As long as they burned, it would work.   
  
The fourth candle still burned, and Sanghyuk looked at it worriedly, because there were no more bowls. There was just them.  
  
It took more time, and it flickered, as if it was being blown on, before ultimately the final candle flame went out.  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes half opened. “It’s live,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to disturb it, and then his eyes slipped shut again. “Now we wait.”  
  
Ilhoon was staring at the mouth of the alleyway, a terrible expression on his face, and Sanghyuk wished he could be beside him, for support. They both needed it.  
  
The minutes ticked by. Sanghyuk could hear a breeze blowing, but it did not touch them, and the fires burned on. A bead of blood dripped off his chin.   
  
Sanghyuk didn’t know what he’d been expecting. A ghost, pale and watery, he supposed. He wasn’t expecting Sungjae to just appear, coming into form on the outer edge of the alleyway, just on the inside of the string.   
  
Ilhoon screamed, a sound that he quickly cut off by slapping a hand over his mouth. Sanghyuk had jumped, a little, turning to watch the spectre step forward.   
  
“Don’t fucking step off the star,” Kyungsoo said sharply, and Sanghyuk shuddered, remembering himself, planting his feet more firmly down.  
  
This Sungjae— it wasn’t truly a replica of its living counterpart. It _was_ pale, all the colors diluted, and it gave off a sort of glow, ethereal. The energy imprint Sungjae had left behind. But it wasn’t transparent at all, and looked uncomfortable solid.   
  
Sungjae’s eyes passed over them all, as he searched for the vampire, the vampire now long gone. His chest was heaving from running, but his breath gave off no steam, not like Sanghyuk’s did now.   
  
He stepped forward, over their circle, their star, the guttered candles. His feet phased right through them, undisturbed by the objects and they, in turn, by him. He was frowning, in frustration and concern.   
  
“Sungjae,” Sanghyuk whispered, and Sungjae’s head whipped around, but not to look at Sanghyuk, no, he was turning to look back at the mouth of the alleyway. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes widened a little.  
  
It took a few beats, for the vampire to saunter within the boundaries of the spell. There was no rush to its movements, and it stopped just inside the spell limit, mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile.   
  
Like Sungjae’s projection, it was a pale version of its true counterpart, but it was still enough for Sanghyuk to know he did not know its face. He hadn’t expected to, but still. He looked back to the others, and they all had similar expressions of bafflement on their faces.  
  
Sanghyuk whipped back to stare at the face of the vampire, commit it to memory.   
  
Sungjae was lowering himself into a fighting stance, but Sanghyuk could read the fear on his face. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets, his left hand empty, his right hand holding his dagger. The dagger blade— it shone, bright with spellwork.  
  
“That’s not much of a greeting.”   
  
Sanghyuk jerked, gasping sharply. The vampire’s mouth had moved, but not sound had come out. The words had come from Taekwoon, who was squinting at the vampire’s face.   
  
“But I expect such, from your kind,” Taekwoon said, tonelessly. He was reading the vampire’s lips.   
  
Sungjae’s chest was rising and falling quickly, and he stepped forward, but the vampire was already there. It grabbed his forearm, and Sungjae’s wards— Sanghyuk could see the energy of them ripple out from his tattoos, like lightning bolts winding around his limbs before they landed converged brightly on where the vampire’s hand was making contact. It all happened in a blink.  
  
The vampire didn’t let go. It wasn’t an Elimia, Taekwoon had said, but it was grinning, now, at Sungjae’s frozen expression. There were still small ripples skittering over Sungjae’s body, little jolts of energy. The vampire didn’t seem to feel them.  
  
Sanghyuk saw the vampire’s grip on Sungjae’s arm tighten, fingertips digging in, and Sungjae looked as if he might have cried out, but then the vampire was turning him and throwing him up against the wall of one of the buildings. It had put vampire strength behind the move, letting Sungjae go as he tossed him like a ragdoll, and Sungjae made contact with the brick hard, the back of his head connecting painfully before he slid down to the ground, landing on all fours. There was blood on the wall. It glowed, slightly, with energy, before fading slowly.   
  
Ilhoon was whimpering, but Sanghyuk found he was too horrified to remember how to speak, how to breathe. The vampire stepped forward, phasing right through Sanghyuk to do so, and even though there was no feeling to it, not even the sensation of cold, Sanghyuk got goosebumps, feeling nauseated all of a sudden.   
  
Sungjae was trying to find his feet but the vampire kicked him in the stomach, and Sungjae rolled, clutching his abdomen, face twisted in pain. Sanghyuk didn’t want to watch this. They knew what the vampire looked like, had seen its face. They didn’t need this.   
  
The vampire was grabbing Sungjae by the lapels of his coat, and Sungjae lashed out with his knife, catching the vampire across the chest. It wasn’t a deep cut, but a few splashes of blood splattered out, glowing like his own had done. The vampire hissed and backhanded Sungjae across the face. The blow seemed to stun him. He didn’t resist as the vampire tugged the blade from his hand.   
  
“Fight back,” Ilhoon whispered, and Sanghyuk wanted to look at him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away as the vampire dragged Sungjae up, pinning him against the wall, grasping his jaw to make him look into his eyes. Sungjae, of course, responded to this by squeezing his eyes shut.   
  
“Look at me,” the vampire said, and oh, that was odd, they could _see_ the glamour, swirling around the words, skittering over the vampire’s skin.   
  
“Fuck off,” Sungjae said, still not opening his eyes, and something in Sanghyuk burned over it.   
  
“Just open your eyes, it’ll all go away, I can make it go away,” the vampire was saying. “If you don’t—”  
  
It shifted its grip, pinning Sungjae down across the chest and shoulders with a forearm, using its free hand to grasp Sungjae’s wrist. It straightened Sungjae’s arm out down his side, and then it began to twist. It did it slowly, and Sanghyuk could almost hear the joints creaking, slowly giving. Sungjae was squirming, but he couldn’t escape, the vampire was too strong—  
  
The vampire jerked, and the angle was impossible. Sanghyuk didn’t have to hear the snap of Sungjae’s bone giving, but he knew it had. Sungjae was arching, screaming.   
  
“Why do so many vampires enjoy doing this,” Hongbin whispered. His hands were clenched at his sides. “They broke me this way, too.”  
  
“They are power mad, delighting in their strength, their ability to break bodies as if they are glass,” Jaehwan murmured. Sungjae was crying.  
  
Sanghyuk’s fingernails were digging into his palms, blood dripping off his knuckles.   
  
“Look at me,” the vampire said again, and this time, Sungjae did.   
  
The expression of pain left his features, his eyes going glassy. The vampire leaned in close, smirking. “Tell me to kill you,” it said, and Taekwoon’s voice broke. He didn’t speak for Sungjae, when Sungjae opened his mouth. But he didn’t need to.  
  
 _Kill me_ , Sungjae said, and the vampire laughed. The glamour faded off, and Sungjae blinked, the fear and pain rushing back. _No_ —  
  
The vampire was already on him, teeth sinking into the side of his neck, and Sungjae jolted. _No_ , he shouted, trying to shove the creature off him with his unbroken arm, his feet scraping uselessly against the pavement. The vampire had too strong on a grip on him. Blood splattered to the ground, because it didn’t care, wasn’t being bothering to be careful.  
  
Sungjae was screaming, and it was horrible to watch his movements steadily slow, no sound, not even a whisper making its way to them. He was screaming for help, sobbing on the words, and Sanghyuk was watching his mouth move numbly before he jerked, realizing Sungjae was screaming, _Sanghyuk_ , over and over.  
  
“He’s screaming for me,” Sanghyuk said through frozen lips, and the sound of his own voice, flat, toneless, was alien to him. “He’s—”  
  
The glow that had been emanating from Sungjae’s projection was fading, and his screams stopped, turned to gasps and whispers as his struggles weakened. The vampire pulled off him when Sungjae stilled, letting him go so he slid down the wall to fall in a crumpled heap on the concrete.  
  
He was still alive, but it was only just. His chest wasn’t really moving, and the glow over his skin was pulsing, like a tide, getting weaker with each passing second. The vampire straightened its clothes, tucked the dagger into its jacket pocket, and walked out of the alleyway. Its projection flickered away at the string marker.   
  
Sanghyuk looked at Sungjae’s face. The tears were still wet on his cheeks, and his eyes were closed. The glow over his skin, its movement like water, was fading to nothing. When it stopped, there was only some weak, lingering remains, enough to keep him still glowing slightly, but only just enough for his projection to still be visible. But it was clear he was gone, now.  
  
Sanghyuk stepped off the star, and Sungjae flickered out of being, and the flames all extinguished at once, leaving behind plumes of acrid smelling smoke. He looked to Ilhoon, who was staring, haunted, at the spot Sungjae’s body had been. There were tears streaming silently down his face. “Ilhoon,” Sanghyuk said, but Ilhoon was stumbling back, leaning on the corner of the building as he doubled over, retching.  
  
“Would you like me to glamour you?” Jaehwan called towards Ilhoon.  
  
Ilhoon was still doubled over, his shoulders visibly trembling. “Go sit on a fucking stake,” he gasped out roughly.  
  
Sanghyuk laughed, but there was no joy in it, it was more hysterical, and then he swayed, legs feeling weak. Jaehwan was there, suddenly, holding onto his shoulders. “Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan murmured, “are you—”  
  
“That was pointless,” Sanghyuk gasped, slumping forward and resting his forehead on Jaehwan’s shoulder. He was shaking violently, and couldn’t seem to stop.   
  
“I think there was some information gained,” Kyungsoo said. He was already gathering up his supplies, bowls clinking together.   
  
“No,” Sanghyuk said. Jaehwan was running his hand along Sanghyuk’s spine, soothing. “I mean— his death. It was pointless.” His voice broke. “It isn’t fair.” There was a new hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, the iciness bleeding through his coat. Sanghyuk turned his face to see Hakyeon, an expression of deep sadness on his face. Sanghyuk reached out, grasping the front of Hakyeon’s jacket. “He screamed for me.”  
  
Hakyeon put his hand over Sanghyuk’s. “I know.”  
  
Sanghyuk didn’t know how to deal with that. This had been horrific, he wanted— he wanted Sungjae back, it wasn’t fair, he shouldn’t have died this way. And they could not undo it. There was no getting him back.   
  
Had he made the right choice, he wondered, should he have let Jaehwan turn Sungjae. After watching him die— he wondered if maybe they should have. This wasn’t how his life should have been permanently ended. He’d deserved better. He’d deserved to be saved.  
  
Sanghyuk let Hakyeon go, feeling his throat get thick, tears stinging at his eyes. Jaehwan held him close as Sanghyuk sniffled, breathing evenly so Sanghyuk could imitate the rhythm.  
  
There was the sound of scraping; Kyungsoo was smudging the circle away with his foot. “I didn’t recognize the vampire,” he said to the group at large. “Did any of you?”  
  
The general consensus was no, no none of them did.   
  
“But we have its scent,” Taekwoon murmured. He came forward to wrap his arm around Hakyeon’s middle, because Hakyeon looked somewhat shaken up. “We have its scent, we know its face. We know its methods. We _will_ find it, in the end.”  
  
Jaehwan cradled the back of Sanghyuk’s head. “We will, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan promised. “It will be alright.”  
  
Sanghyuk turned his face to the side, staring at the blood smear on the wall, and rather thought it was too late for that.  
  
——  
  
They offered to drive Ilhoon home, but he said no. He didn’t seem to want to talk, or take the comfort they could give. Kyungsoo murmured that he would make sure Ilhoon got home safely, and that Sanghyuk, and Hongbin, should go home and rest, that the spell may have tired them.  
  
“I feel fine,” Hongbin said, a little shortly, once he was settled in the passenger seat of the car. He batted Wonshik’s hands away where he was trying to use a tissue to wipe the blood mixture from Hongbin’s forehead.  
  
It was decided Wonshik would drive, and Jaehwan and Sanghyuk sat side by side in the backseat. Sanghyuk was crying, but they weren’t terribly wrenching sobs, just a steady stream of tears down his face, his throat feeling tight. He hated it.   
  
As they pulled away from the curb, he looked out the window to see Ilhoon crouched, helping Kyungsoo gather up his supplies, while Hakyeon and Taekwoon stood near one another, talking. Then the sight of them was blocked by a building, and Sanghyuk turned to look ahead, at Hongbin, who had taken the tissue from Wonshik and was cleaning himself off.  
  
“Can I have some?” he asked, and it came out croaky.   
  
Hongbin handed him the whole box, which Sanghyuk took gratefully. He used the tissues to dab at his face, at the blood and tears.   
  
“Why did it— hurt him like that?” he found himself asking brokenly. “It didn’t have to feed from him, it could have snapped his neck, or— waited the glamour out. It would have gotten him in the end. It didn’t need to torture him.”  
  
The car was silent, none of them knowing any better than he did, apparently.   
  
“Sometimes,” Jaehwan finally whispered, “the long years, with no boundaries, leaves our kind to degenerate into the worst of what a human could be. It has odd effects on the mind, and combined with what gorging on blood does— it can be a potent combination. All vampires must endure the wearing of time on the heart and mind, but for some, it goes especially bad. You usually see such tendencies in nests, to an even more extreme degree.”  
  
That made Sanghyuk glance at Hongbin, who was staring determinately into his own lap, before looking at Jaehwan. “I keep wondering if I made the right choice, not letting you turn him,” Sanghyuk whispered. “He didn’t deserve to die like that, he deserved— a second chance.”  
  
Hongbin moved, made an odd little gesture. “I did not know Sungjae,” he murmured, “but I know what it is to be a hunter, what it is to die unwilling and in pain at the hands of a vampire. Had I been asked, then, I would have said dying was preferable to being brought back undead. I was terrified, and it was— sickening, to think this was what my final days, hours, were going to be like, but I still would have said no.”  
  
“You say that, but you got a second chance,” Sanghyuk whispered.   
  
A pause. “Was Sungjae like me?” Hongbin asked. “Do you think if we’d turned him, brought him back, that he would have adjusted to his new life as I did?”  
  
Sanghyuk thought of Sungjae, of how lively he was, how soft and, in many ways, innocent. He’d loved to be out, in thick crowds, seeing all there was to see, meeting people. He’d loved the thrill of discovering a new person, a new place. He’d loved life.   
  
Sanghyuk closed his eyes. “No. He wouldn’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

Perhaps Sanghyuk should have requested to be taken home, to his own home, but he didn’t want to be alone. He wasn’t sure he wanted company either. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his mind, and what he wanted most, was for them to go away. Barring that, he needed distraction.  
  
At least the tears had stopped.  
  
“Has Hongbin ever told you what happened to him?” Sanghyuk asked softly.   
  
Jaehwan looked at him. The two of them were alone in Jaehwan’s bedroom, Wonshik and Hongbin having retired back to their own room. Jaehwan had been rummaging in his dresser for a pair of sweatpants to change into, while Sanghyuk sat and watched from the edge of the bed.  
  
“I only know bits and pieces. He has not chosen to confide in me,” Jaehwan said. “It was— they held him for a few days, and tortured him badly. I do not blame him, for not wanting to speak of it.”  
  
Sanghyuk didn’t say anything, simply stared down at the carpet, his thoughts running in circles. There was the sound of shifting as Jaehwan changed, and then Jaehwan was there, clad in a pair of soft grey sweatpants and nothing more, kneeling in front of Sanghyuk. He put his hands on Sanghyuk’s knees, gazing up at Sanghyuk’s face. “Love.”  
  
“I want this all to be over,” Sanghyuk whispered. “I want Sungjae back. I want this vampire dead. I want to live.”  
  
Jaehwan bit his bottom lip. “I cannot give you Sungjae back, the time frame has passed, and I do not believe he should have been turned. If there is any doubt— then the answer is no. He is at peace now, Sanghyuk, he is not suffering anymore. Like my own family and friends, my master. As for the other things— this vampire will be brought down, in the end, that I truly can promise. And you—”  
  
“I’m going to die like Sungjae,” Sanghyuk cut in numbly. “If I’m lucky. If I’m not— it’ll go even slower.” Jaehwan’s fingertips dug into Sanghyuk’s thighs a little, and Sanghyuk put his hands over Jaehwan’s. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I— you don’t deserve this. I keep thinking about it, about— Sungjae on that metal table, me looking down at him, and then me on the table instead, and it’s you looking down at me.”  
  
“Don’t,” Jaehwan said hoarsely. He stood, leaning over Sanghyuk and moving their faces close. “Don’t.” He grasped Sanghyuk’s face in both his hands. “ _Sanghyuk_. Don’t.”  
  
“He screamed for me,” Sanghyuk whispered. “Because he loved me, because he thought I could save him. But I didn’t. Did Hongbin scream for Hakyeon, or Wonshik? They couldn’t save him either.” He swallowed thickly. “Who am I going to scream for, Jaehwan?”  
  
Jaehwan snatched his hands back and turned sharply to pace several steps away. The line of his spine was rigid. Sanghyuk pressed his lips together, trying to swallow down the new wave of tears. He managed it, but only just.  
  
“Have you considered,” Jaehwan said, still turned away, not looking at him, “letting me turn you? Or Hakyeon, or Wonshik?” His voice was very carefully neutral.  
  
Sanghyuk felt his heart rate quicken. “I— yes. I have.”  
  
Jaehwan laughed shortly, looking back. “I guess the fact that you’ve not brought it up means it’s a no.”  
  
“It’s— it’s an I don’t know,” Sanghyuk said honestly. “I don’t want to die, but I also— I don’t want to turn just because I don’t want to die. That seems cowardly. I am being cowardly enough.”  
  
Jaehwan strode back to him, sitting on the bed beside him. “Tell me, if you decide the answer is yes. I will not do it unless you ask first, I could not hurt you that way, but— if you asked, I would not hesitate.”  
  
He was so intense, burning with horrible hope, that Sanghyuk had to look away. “Tomorrow is Sungjae’s funeral,” he murmured. “I need to think— and talk to Ilhoon. And probably the others as well, before I make a decision.”  
  
Jaehwan nodded. “Of course— but Sanghyuk, it is not cowardly to wish to live.”  
  
“It is, when the cost will be the lives of others,” Sanghyuk said.  
  
That made Jaehwan laugh, a little. “I would sacrifice half the world for you, but I am a selfish bastard,” he said, and then yawned, drooping a little. “The sun is rising.” He blinked slowly at Sanghyuk. “When will you leave?”  
  
“I—” Sanghyuk paused, thinking about it. “I need to pick up Ilhoon and Hyunsik in about five hours.” It would take a good hour to drive to Sungjae’s funeral, and they’d decided it would be best, if they went together. None of them wanted to be alone in their heads.   
  
Jaehwan touched Sanghyuk’s arm, his fingers snagging on Sanghyuk’s sleeve. “Rest with me,” he murmured, and Sanghyuk nodded. Jaehwan scooted back on the bed, pushing the covers down so he could snuggle under them, while Sanghyuk tugged his shirt off, wiggled out of the stiff denim of his jeans. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and he moved quickly, sliding under the covers and pressing against Jaehwan, whose skin was feverish as always.   
  
Jaehwan shuddered as Sanghyuk wrapped his arms around his middle, and Sanghyuk knew he wasn’t phased by the cold. “What is it?” he asked.  
  
Jaehwan tucked his face against Sanghyuk’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Sometimes, it’s hard for me to process you being here with me,” he mumbled, the words melting together a bit. The sun must be peeking up over the horizon, the magic was pulling Jaehwan under. Jaehwan ran his fingertips over the healing bite marks on Sanghyuk’s neck, the touch gentle. “I never thought I’d have any of this again.”  
  
“I know,” Sanghyuk said, thinking that he, too, had never thought he’d be here again. But that had been his own choice— it must be even odder, for Jaehwan, who had mourned the loss of his relationship with Sanghyuk, craved all of this all over again. He had been healing, and Sanghyuk had clawed him raw again by coming back. “Was I wrong, Jaehwan?” he whispered. “Should I have stayed away— would it have been less painful if I—”  
  
“Maybe.” A pause. “No. Even if it is fleeting, even if after everything I suffer more for it— in the now, I am content to have you here,” Jaehwan mumbled before he yawned again. His body was so lax and Sanghyuk’s arms, and Sanghyuk marvelled at the trust Jaehwan placed in him. “I love you. I wish it could be enough.”  
  
Sanghyuk blinked down at Jaehwan’s face, frowning a little. The words hadn’t had any particular inflection, had bled together, and Jaehwan’s face was simply relaxed, eyes closed. “Enough for what?” Sanghyuk asked. Jaehwan didn’t answer, was still. “Jaehwan.”  
  
Jaehwan gave a soft little groan, brow furrowing. “I don’t know,” he mumbled indistinctly, waving his hand weakly for emphasis. “To make it all alright.”  
  
Sanghyuk’s throat felt tight, emotion welling up in him. Yes. He wished it could make it all alright, make the universe let up and let them be happy.   
  
“I want to stay with you,” Sanghyuk whispered, cupping the side of Jaehwan’s face. “You and the others. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to turn, if I can live with the pain of losing my friends, one after another, the pain of killing, of inflicting this grief onto others.”   
  
Jaehwan didn’t reply, his face was gently slack, lips slightly parted. Sanghyuk hated that he didn’t breathe, like he was a doll, pretty and perfect and forever silent and still. He gently tugged at the point of Jaehwan’s ear, and when that garnered no reaction, he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Jaehwan’s slack one, found his lips warm and soft as always.   
  
Jaehwan made a little noise, but he didn’t move, and Sanghyuk kissed him harder, sealing their mouths together. He rolled them a bit, so he was pressing Jaehwan down into the mattress, and Jaehwan whined in the back of his throat, back arching slightly. He was so— so—  
  
Jaehwan brought his hand up to cup the back of Sanghyuk’s head, the motion lethargic, and his fingertips tenderly brushed over the short hairs at Sanghyuk’s nape. At the touch, Sanghyuk broke the kiss, giving a short little sob.   
  
“Love,” Jaehwan murmured, eyes fluttering open a fraction, though it was clear his eyelids were heavy. Sanghyuk gave another little sob, trying to blink back the tears and not succeeding. “Sanghyuk. My Sanghyuk.” Jaehwan ran his hand over Sanghyuk’s hair, bringing it around to touch Sanghyuk’s cheek, running his fingertips through Sanghyuk’s tear tracks. “Why?”  
  
“I wish the way I feel for you could be enough too,” Sanghyuk said, the words breaking. “But it isn’t, is it? It can’t be.” This was over, already. It was all over. There was nothing they could do.  
  
Jaehwan lifted his hand from Sanghyuk’s face, the dampness of tears on his fingertips, and brought that hand to his mouth, touching his fingertips to his lips. He closed his eyes. “No,” he murmured, his hand falling away to show dampness on his lips, “I don’t think it can be.”  
  
Sanghyuk’s mouth twisted and he grit his teeth, lowering his head so his forehead rested on Jaehwan’s sternum. It was all too much, he was tired of being afraid, and in pain. He just wanted it to go away.   
  
Jaehwan was breathing, slowly, for him, and Sanghyuk tried to mimic the rhythm, put his focus on it to calm his mind and racing heart. After a few moments Jaehwan brought his hands up to run through Sanghyuk hair, trying to soothe him, but the sweet intimacy of the motion made tears well up again, so without raising his head Sanghyuk grabbed Jaehwan’s wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of Jaehwan’s head. “Don’t,” Sanghyuk said thickly.  
  
It had been a mistake, coming back to Jaehwan. It always was a mistake. But he’d fucked up worse, this time. Jaehwan would never recover, and Sanghyuk— he’d fallen, just in time to die. Fallen for a person that barely existed.   
  
Jaehwan shifted, a little, trying to tug his hands down, but Sanghyuk easily held them pinned. The sensation of being able to do so was odd, utterly alien to their norm. But Jaehwan was weak in daylight.   
  
There was silence, aside from their breathing, the sound of Sanghyuk’s beating heart. Jaehwan couldn’t replicate that. Sanghyuk had managed to stop crying, but it was a fragile thing.  
  
“I’m so tired of hurting,” he whispered, then exhaled shakily.  
  
More silence. “What can I do?” Jaehwan finally asked, the words soft around the edges. “I cannot glamour you in daylight.”  
  
That was rather a shame. Sanghyuk needed to get out of his head. “I don’t know. My brain feels full, everything fuzzy and I— I just want peace.”  
  
Jaehwan tugged at his wrists again, a little sharply, and Sanghyuk still didn’t let them go. He couldn’t stand the thought of those hands on him, yet. And he didn’t want to roll away, leave, either. Jaehwan sighed.  
  
“Would sex help?” Jaehwan asked softly, and Sanghyuk shook his head on instinct. They always fell back on that, didn’t they? Sex, their one equalizing constant. The only thing they could do right.  
  
“I don’t think I— I don’t think I can take your hands on me right now, your mouth, it hurts too much,” Sanghyuk whispered. Because he loved Jaehwan, didn’t want to leave him. He ached with it. “And you’re— it’s daylight. You can barely move.”  
  
Jaehwan shifted his legs, with some difficulty, and then his legs were on either side of Sanghyuk’s hips, cradling Sanghyuk’s body between them, and Sanghyuk’s stomach dropped.  
  
“Like this,” Jaehwan whispered. “You can, if you want, if it’s what you need.”  
  
Sanghyuk raised his head so he could look down at Jaehwan’s face, but Jaehwan just looked weary down to his bones. His hair was falling messily into his eyes, and he looked so small, pinned down. Sanghyuk wondered how his own hands could look so large on Jaehwan’s wrists.   
  
He wanted to. But Jaehwan— “It would help me, I think, but it’s overwhelming for you, isn’t it? You cried, the last time I fucked you,” Sanghyuk murmured, and Jaehwan looked away. “And we haven’t been intimate in a long time.”  
  
“The last time— it— oh, I can’t _think_ right now,” Jaehwan said, the words slurring together. “It was too much, to have you inside me and turn away from the fact that I loved you. Love you.”  
  
“And now?” Sanghyuk whispered. “Will it still be too much?”  
  
Jaehwan’s mouth twisted, and that was answer enough. “Yes,” he said, “but I want you to.”  
  
Sanghyuk let Jaehwan’s wrists go, running his fingertips along the sensitive skin on the underside of Jaehwan’s forearms, but Jaehwan didn’t move his hands from where they were resting on the mattress. “Will you cry again?” Sanghyuk asked.  
  
A pause. “Possibly.”  
  
“I don’t want that, Jaehwan.”  
  
The made Jaehwan, smile, a little. “If one of us must shed tears, I would rather it be me,” he murmured. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Sanghyuk with the softest expression. “I want you to, Sanghyuk. I’ve wanted it for a long time.”  
  
Sanghyuk let his hands trail over Jaehwan’s arms, then his shoulders, fingertips catching on the sharp jut of his collarbones. He already felt the tension leaving his sore muscles as he let his thoughts turn to the feeling of Jaehwan’s skin on his, the crackle of his wards, how lovely Jaehwan looked right now, pliant and waiting. It was easy to fall into, easy to let himself get swept away with it.   
  
He ran his hands down Jaehwan’s chest, the bumps of his ribs, down to the softness of his stomach, and then he leaned forward to press a kiss to Jaehwan’s sternum. Jaehwan whimpered, moving his hands as if to card them through Sanghyuk’s hair and then snatching them back, as he remembered.   
  
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk whispered, and pressed his lips against Jaehwan’s chest again, letting his mouth follow the trail his hands had made, down over Jaehwan’s ribs to his stomach, curving inwards. Jaehwan was still breathing, but he was losing the rhythm of it, now.   
  
By the time his lips were resting on the waistband of Jaehwan’s sweatpants, both of them were on their way to being properly hard, and Jaehwan was shaking, the trembles shuddering through his body in waves.   
  
It was all so familiar, Sanghyuk thought, as he tugged Jaehwan’s sweatpants down, but like the previous night, it was also starkly different in ways Sanghyuk couldn’t quantify. It felt like _more_ , somehow, and when Sanghyuk took Jaehwan’s cock into his mouth, Jaehwan cried out brokenly, body arching weakly. The sound felt like it was filling Sanghyuk up, drowning out anything else.   
  
Jaehwan’s thighs clenched around Sanghyuk’s torso, and Sanghyuk was able to stop his squirming with ease, holding Jaehwan’s hips down and still. The fact that he could, that Jaehwan was trying to buck and writhe and _couldn’t_ — it was going to Sanghyuk’s head, making his cheeks flush in a heady rush. He swallowed Jaehwan down, until his nose was buried in the hair at the base of Jaehwan’s cock, and revelled in the taste, the feeling of Jaehwan on his tongue, the way Jaehwan was panting _love_ over and over, like he’d already been broken.   
  
Sanghyuk pulled off slowly, sucking gently as he did so. Jaehwan exhaled shakily once his cock fell from Sanghyuk’s lips, and Sanghyuk glanced up to see Jaehwan was blinking blearily up at the ceiling.   
  
“What is it like?” Sanghyuk whispered, lips brushing against the tip of Jaehwan’s cock as he spoke. Jaehwan whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, and Sanghyuk licked at the slit of his cock just to be cruel. “What’s it like, in the daytime?”  
  
“I feel—” Jaehwan began, then halted, shaking his head. “Can’t explain. Floaty, and fuzzy, and it’s all so— so _much_.”  
  
Sanghyuk let one of his hands fall away from Jaehwan’s bony hip, trailing it down between Jaehwan’s legs so he could gently press his thumb against Jaehwan’s perineum. Jaehwan jerked, like Sanghyuk’s wards had actually managed to shock him. Sanghyuk circled his thumb slowly, pressing down, teasing, and murmured, “Too much?”  
  
Jaehwan was panting, his mouth dropped open. “No,” he whispered, and Sanghyuk mouthed along the shaft of his cock, nosing down between his legs and letting his hand fall away. Jaehwan realized what was about to happen seconds before it did, and he tried to close his legs, inhaling sharply, but Sanghyuk was able to push them apart and upwards, bending Jaehwan’s knees and forcing his legs to curl up towards his chest for better access. “Sanghyuk—”  
  
Sanghyuk pressed his mouth against Jaehwan’s entrance, licking broadly, and Jaehwan— he nearly screamed. It was the loudest Sanghyuk had ever heard him get, during sex, and in the next moment Jaehwan had his hands in Sanghyuk’s hair, and he was trying to push Sanghyuk’s head away, legs still trying to close. Both efforts were weak.   
  
Sanghyuk held him down, held him open, circling his tongue before flicking it inside, but only just. Jaehwan nearly sobbed, hands tangling in Sanghyuk’s hair. “Don’t,” Jaehwan gasped, “please, I don’t—”  
  
Sanghyuk relented, pulling back a bit and Jaehwan’s legs ceased their clenching around him. “You loved to do this to me,” Sanghyuk murmured, a reminder, almost. He put his fingertip against Jaehwan’s entrance, slick with spit, and pressed down, not penetrating him, just teasing. “Even though it’s embarrassing. You loved making me squirm.”  
  
“And now it is my turn?” Jaehwan whimpered. “I— Sanghyuk—”  
  
Sanghyuk turned his face, kissing the inside of Jaehwan’s thigh. “I won’t,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be cruel. Even if you may deserve it.” He pushed the tip of his finger inside Jaehwan, and Jaehwan made a sweet, high little noise, head tossing back. “I need lube. Don’t make me use my mouth again.”  
  
Jaehwan twisted, as best he could with Sanghyuk pinning his lower half down, and pawed at the nightstand, reaching weakly. Sanghyuk held onto him, smiling a little at Jaehwan’s sleepy, uncoordinated efforts to get the nightstand drawer open, to rummage through it. He dipped his head down, still watching Jaehwan, and licked at where the tip of his finger was disappearing into Jaehwan, and Jaehwan made a garbled little noise, clenching around Sanghyuk’s finger.   
  
Then Jaehwan was rolling onto his back again, and the rapidity of the motion seemed to disorient him and his eyes glassed over, for a flicker, before he seemed to blink back. “Here,” he said, and his voice was already rough from what noises he’d been making. He held out a small bottle of lube for Sanghyuk to take, and Sanghyuk carefully pulled his fingertip out of him to take it. “Go quickly,” Jaehwan whispered, spreading his legs a bit more. His thigh was trembling against Sanghyuk’s mouth.  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sanghyuk murmured, but he listened. He made sure his fingers were slick with lube, and Jaehwan was so pliant and willing under his hands, but it still worried him, when he worked two fingers inside him right off the go.   
  
“Ah,” Jaehwan gasped, and Sanghyuk looked up to see his fangs sliding out. He made another little noise, as Sanghyuk scissored his fingers inside him.  
  
“Okay?” Sanghyuk asked, and he remembered last time, asking over and over, if it was alright, and Jaehwan saying yes, yes, even though Sanghyuk wasn’t sure he’d meant it.   
  
Jaehwan was shaking so hard, his eyes screwed shut. “I— I need you to—” He shuddered in a breath. “If you take any longer, I’m going to fall apart.”  
  
Sanghyuk let his fingers slip out of Jaehwan, pulling back for a moment to impatiently shove his boxers off and then sliding back up over Jaehwan’s body so their faces were level. Jaehwan blinked his eyes open blearily, and he looked so wrecked already. Sanghyuk reached down, grasping his own cock, smearing the lube down his length.   
  
“I want you to tell me this time, if I hurt you,” he said, intently, eyes roving over Jaehwan’s face, his bitten lips and glassy gaze.   
  
Jaehwan touched Sanghyuk’s cheeks, the softest of touches. “Is this helping?” he whispered, the words melting together, and Sanghyuk jerked away. He grabbed Jaehwan’s wrists again, one handed, this time, because Jaehwan was small and Sanghyuk _could_ , could hold both of Jaehwan’s wrists in one hand, pin them above his head. Jaehwan made a soft little sound, almost wounded. Sanghyuk dropped his head to press a kiss, closed mouthed, to Jaehwan’s lips in silent apology. It was all he could do, right now, without falling apart himself.  
  
Jaehwan tilted his hips up in offering, almost tiredly, and Sanghyuk positioned himself and then rolled his hips forward, maybe too fast, too rough, sheathing himself inside Jaehwan in one smooth stroke. Jaehwan cried out, the sound raw, like it had been ripped from him, and he arched, tugging on his trapped hands. Sanghyuk held him pinned, one hand on his wrists, the other splayed across his stomach.   
  
“Look at me,” Sanghyuk said, his own voice husky.  
  
Jaehwan had his face turned to the side, pressing it against his own upper arm, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed. “Please,” he gasped, “oh, please—” His thighs kept clenching around Sanghyuk’s hips, and he was so _tight_ , and Sanghyuk didn’t know if he was trying to squirm nearer or get away.  
  
Sanghyuk nudged his hips forward, and Jaehwan— flinched, he flinched, gasping, and Sanghyuk stilled. “Look at me,” he said again, and this time, Jaehwan did, blinking rapidly like that would chase away the watery red tears. “I’m hurting you.”   
  
“Yes,” Jaehwan sobbed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Yes, yes, you are— god, don’t _stop_ —”  
  
Sanghyuk hated himself. He pressed Jaehwan down, bracing, and pulled his hips back before snapping them forward again, flinching himself when Jaehwan cried out. He did it again, and again, and each time Jaehwan made a soft broken noise, his legs wrapped around Sanghyuk’s body, weakly trying to draw him nearer.   
  
“Love, my love, my— _Sanghyuk_ ,” Jaehwan whimpered when Sanghyuk thrust forward roughly, losing his rhythm because Jaehwan was fucking breaking him, weak and pliant and sweet, so sweet—  
  
Sanghyuk abruptly let Jaehwan go, slipping his arm under Jaehwan’s lower back and then rolling them over, so Jaehwan was laying atop him, legs straddling his waist. Like earlier, the fast movement seemed to disorient Jaehwan for a moment, and he blinked down at Sanghyuk, dazed.   
  
Sanghyuk was gritting his teeth against the prickle behind his eyes, the lump rising in his throat. “I can’t, I—” Sanghyuk squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, breathing deeply through his nose, and then opened his eyes again. “Like this. Can you?”  
  
Jaehwan moaned lowly. “You’re cruel,” he said thickly, and it echoed— Sanghyuk seemed to recall saying the same thing to Jaehwan, years ago. But he didn’t have time to think about it, because Jaehwan was bracing his hands on Sanghyuk’s chest, pushing himself up. He was so slow, and he was shaking badly, his head drooping forward.   
  
Jaehwan swayed a little, once he was upright, and it took him several beats to gather himself enough to lift himself up a bit, and his thighs trembled with the effort of it. When he sank back down on Sanghyuk cock, they both gasped, Jaehwan’s hair fanning over his eyes, hiding them. He tried, to lift himself up again, but then he collapsed forward, back onto Sanghyuk’s chest, arms curled loosely between their bodies.   
  
“I can’t,” he whimpered. He was lax against Sanghyuk, head tucked just under Sanghyuk’s chin. “I’m too weak.”  
  
Sanghyuk held him, ran his hand along Jaehwan’s spine, found his skin slick with sweat. He blinked away tears, pressing his mouth to Jaehwan’s hair, and rolled his hips up. There wasn’t a lot of room for motion, but it was enough, and Jaehwan mewled, grinding down. Their rhythm was off, and neither of them seemed to care.  
  
Jaehwan raised his head enough to kiss Sanghyuk, open mouthed. He was so beautiful. “I love you,” Jaehwan mumbled thickly against his mouth. “I’d give you anything, Sanghyuk, I love you so much.”  
  
Sanghyuk whimpered, the sound high and surprising him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t stop a tear from escaping, his throat closing thickly. He brought his hand up, slipping two fingers past Jaehwan’s full lips, into his mouth, partially just to quiet him so he wouldn’t reduce Sanghyuk to a sobbing mess. Jaehwan sucked on his fingers absently, eyes fluttering closed.   
  
When Sanghyuk pulled his hand back, his fingers were slick with spit, and he brought that hand down, touching his fingertips to where their bodies were joined. Jaehwan jerked, and it made Sanghyuk give a watery smile. He ran his fingertips over Jaehwan’s stretched entrance, and then pushed one in beside his cock.  
  
Jaehwan keened and clenched down on him, his fingernails digging into Sanghyuk’s chest. “Come for me,” Sanghyuk murmured into Jaehwan’s ear. “Or do you want another?”  
  
He rolled his hips up, and Jaehwan was _panting_. “I’ve made you into a monster,” he moaned.  
  
“Maybe,” Sanghyuk replied. Maybe.   
  
He worked his other hand between their bodies, bypassing Jaehwan’s cock to press three fingertips to Jaehwan’s perineum as he thrust upwards again, and Jaehwan sobbed as he came, shivering against Sanghyuk’s body. He was gasping out words, an incoherent stream of _Sanghyuk Sanghyuk Sanghyuk I love you I need you please please god_ —  
  
It undid Sanghyuk, and he came, movements slow and a sharp contrast to their usual franticness, the strain. It was absent, he just— came, the orgasm shuddering sweetly through him, his cock inside Jaehwan, with Jaehwan still shivering with aftershocks, hiccuping from crying.   
  
Sanghyuk slipped his finger out of Jaehwan, rolling them onto their sides, facing one another. He was very careful, when he pulled out, and Jaehwan’s only reaction was to inhale through parted lips. His hair was stuck to his face with sweat, his eyes closed, chest hitching with the occasional hiccup.   
  
“Thank you,” Sanghyuk whispered, eyes roving over Jaehwan’s features, catching on the hitch between his brows.  
  
Unexpectedly, that made Jaehwan snort. He opened his eyes, met Sanghyuk’s gaze. “You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes,” he murmured, then his eyes slipped shut again.  
  
Sanghyuk’s face twisted. He tugged Jaehwan nearer, tucking him against his chest and pulling the blankets up around their shoulders.  
  
“I don’t want to be selfish, if it means I hurt you,” Sanghyuk murmured, staring down at Jaehwan’s face, watching as his brow smoothed out, his lips parting as he drifted off. Sanghyuk leaned forward, kissing Jaehwan’s slack mouth softly. “Love.”  
  
He felt— peaceful. It was a relief, even temporary as it was. His heart rate was slow, limbs feeling languid.   
  
A series of soft beeps made him startle, and the room lit up a little. He rolled, slightly, to see his phone on the nightstand, screen glowing. The urge to ignore it was strong, but then he got another message, this one with a personalized text tone— Ilhoon.  
  
Sanghyuk reached out, swiping his phone open to read his texts. The first was from work, sent out to all employees. His stomach plummeted. There’d been another death. Not one of theirs, but another VCF officer. A civilian had found him after dawn, and they were working on cover up.  
  
The anxiety was creeping back, the icy tendrils of sharp reality sneaking under the covers to strangle Sanghyuk once more. Ilhoon’s message simply read, _It’s speeding up_. He was right. There’d been no buffer night, this time.  
  
It would be another one of theirs, tonight, if it kept to its accelerated timespan. Ilhoon and Hyunsik would be safe— they would be with Sanghyuk, had off and would be at the funeral. But what of Minhyuk and Eunkwang, of Luhan and Minseok, of the younger trainees still patrolling with their mentors, easy targets.  
  
Sanghyuk tucked his phone away, the anxiety giving way to an odd, detached sort of numbness. He stared down at Jaehwan, brought him close once more, tucking him him against his body.  
  
Jaehwan’s skin was cooling in sleep, and Sanghyuk tried not to think about how so many people he loved were dead, one way or the other.


End file.
